In the Bleak Midwinter
by LillyMayFlower
Summary: Dylan and Ethan both learn something new about those they care about, in the run-up to Christmas, and try to make that bleak midwinter just a little brighter. (DISCLAIMER - I do not own Casualty or these characters.)


**In the Bleak Midwinter**

 **Dylan and Ethan both learn something new about those they care about, in the run-up to Christmas, and try to make that bleak midwinter just a little brighter.**

 **(Not canon-compliant, Zoe and Lily are still in Holby and Cal is still alive. Side-note – I just realised that only half of my original dream-team [Lily, Ethan, Zoe and Dylan] are still in the ED. Gutted.)**

 **(Oh, and I've mentioned Dylan's mental health in this story, so it's kind of canon-compliant as well as using some of my own headcanon.)**

* * *

" _Heavy snow is forecast across much of mainland UK this afternoon, and this evening, after Northern Ireland saw up to a foot of snow in some places last night. In some areas, extreme snowfall is expected to continue into tomorrow morning. Met Office advice is to avoid all but absolutely necessary journeys in order to avoid becoming stranded by incoming weather."_

Zoe listened to the last of the weather forecast and laughed scornfully. Standing at the main desk of the ED, she tore her eyes easily from the wall-mounted television and looked instead to the front doors. They opened, as if on cue, letting in an icy stream of air with the paramedics and their patient. Zoe's new patient. The sky was clear and bright blue. The sun was shining, albeit not altering the air temperature. There would be no snow today.

* * *

At half past two that afternoon, Lily took her mug of tea outside, keen to have five minutes to herself, to finish the last of her drink. She hadn't been paying attention to the weather as her shift progressed, so it took her by surprise to walk out of the department and into two inches of settled snow. It crunched underfoot: that strange crushing sound that only fresh snow can make. The air was bitter, so that both Lily's breath and the steam from her cup of tea rose in little puffs in front of her face,

"Oh," she said with quiet astonishment. She turned around to see if anyone inside had noticed. Squinting a little against the almost obscene brightness of the snow, she saw that Iain was stamping snow out of the tread of his boots, while Sam Nicholls rubbed her hands together, then fiddled with her long blonde plait. Wrapping both hands around her cup, Lily caught Cal's eye and smiled. He had been leaning on the front desk, cradling a cardboard cup of machine-coffee. _Snow,_ she mouthed clearly.

* * *

Cal's eyes lit up. He whipped around at once, scanning the vicinity for his brother. Laying eyes on Ethan, he half-shouted to the younger man.

"Oi, Ethan! It's snowed outside, did you know?"

Ethan's expression changed suddenly, from mild annoyance at being hollered too, across his place of work, to childish innocence at the thought of snow. He rushed over. "Proper snow?" he asked, trying to hold back his smile.

"I think so; your Ice Princess looks positively thrilled out there," Cal replied, motioning with his head to where Lily stood.

Ethan frowned a little. "Don't call her that," he mumbled, looking at Lily almost wistfully. "I don't really think she would describe herself as _mine._ "

"Well, she certainly won't be describing herself as anyone else's, you fool! No-one else buys her tea, or shares croissants with her, or enables her book habit as well as their own, or _kisses her in the staff room."_

Turning scarlet, Ethan flopped his stack of patient notes into his brother's chest. "Fine then, you can take these," he said, before heading outside.

* * *

"Aren't you freezing, out here?" he asked her.

Lily looked up at the sky. It was that muddy kind of grey – she could practically already feel the snow that was yet to fall. "Maybe a bit," she admitted, a tiny laugh escaping her lips.

It was such an unfamiliar sound, and yet one which Ethan immediately fell in love with. There had been little reason to smile in the ED of late: usual winter chaos was rife in the hospital, and the precious few days they would each have off over the seasonal period could not come soon enough. Lily, in particular, Ethan had noticed, had seemed worn-down despite her stoic refusal to pause and regroup. Now, however, her stress and exhaustion melted away as the world froze around her. He took a step forwards, closing the gap between them. It was a subtle change, but it made all the difference.

"Do you like snow, then?" Lily asked, drawing the brief silence to a close.

"I'm almost indifferent to snow these days, probably too accustomed to being thrashed in every snowball fight against Caleb. I think I dislike it more and more as I get older – hey!"

Lily had taken the opportunity to kick a little snow at Ethan's ankles. She made eye-contact with him to check that he wasn't really cross before smiling. Her front teeth rested on her lower lip, so the smile was nearly all in her eyes.

"I guess I don't like snow anywhere near as much as you do," Ethan said quietly.

Lily's eyes twinkled. It was true that her day had been improved by the appearance of snow, but it was being infinitely improved by standing out here with Ethan. Snow made the world quieter, absorbing every bit of superfluous sound, so it almost felt as though they were alone and far from prying eyes.

* * *

An incoming report on Iain's radio pulled him and Sam from the relative warmth of the ED and out into the snow again. Sam was almost outside when someone touched her arm; as she was still walking, it ended with a slightly awkward brush of someone's hand on hers. His hands were warm, as usual. (She had always been the one with cold hands, much to his mild irritation.) She recognised the touch at once, in equal part caring and urgent. She turned around.

"Be careful, out in the snow," Dylan said carefully, eager not to be overheard. He met her eyes and saw a spark of recognition. He hoped that she knew what he was getting at.

"For goodness' sake, Grumpy, it's been years. It was one time!" It was easier to react with a flash of hurt and annoyance, than to accept how touching it was that he'd remembered one event – this single, very specific event – from their married life. "I'll be fine," she went on gently, relenting. "It only happened once."

Dylan's gruff exterior returned. "Yes, well. Just take care. Keep breathing," he said, protectiveness evident in every syllable.

"Excellent advice," Sam replied briskly. And then, "thank you... for... remembering."

* * *

When Iain and Sam came charging out of the front doors, they regretted their haste at once as their boots made contact with the snow. Iain swore under his breath as he skidded, raising a warm smile from Sam.

She could have sworn that Lily and Ethan stepped apart from each other. "Alright?" she said to them both, taking in their startled faces, pink ears and sparkling eyes. Surely they weren't having _a moment,_ out here in the snow when the temperature was two below freezing? But she didn't have any more time to consider it. "We'll be back shortly," she explained. "RTC on the ring road."

* * *

"What are you doing for Christmas, Lily?" Ethan was surprised to see her look immediately down at her shoes, as though she was embarrassed.

Lily hoped that her cheeks were not turning pink, but she could feel them growing warm. "Um –" she began, stumbling a little because for someone who was teased for having a heart of unthawing ice, for someone who loved snow so much, her festive plans this year were... uninspiring, to say the least. "Not very much, this year. My parents are flying out to Hong Kong in the morning, until the New Year. I would have loved to go with them, but I'm working. Not Christmas Day, thank goodness, but I finish at eight on Christmas Eve, and I'm back at seven on Boxing Day morning."

"Me too," Ethan replied. "I'm sorry to hear about your parents going away – you're not... Do you mean that it's just you, by yourself?" He hated the thought of anyone being alone at Christmas, and this was especially true of Lily, whom he liked very much.

Lily's grip on her cup tightened. The tea was cold now. She couldn't look Ethan in the eye: she didn't want him to feel sorry for her, but what could she say, that wouldn't end like that?

"Lily?" he persisted. He looked at her tired face intently, until he saw a tiny nod.

"It's fine," Lily said quickly. "You don't have to –"

"No, I do," Ethan said, his voice firm. "I like you a lot, Lily," (where was this sudden bravery coming from?) "too much to let you spend Christmas alone. I'd really like you to come over on Christmas Day, spend it with us, instead. That's Cal and I, I mean – as long as you can put up with childish immaturity, classic kids' films and a highly likely snowball fight, if this weather keeps up. If you don't mind having snow dropped down the back of your neck, because Cal will probably do that –"

He stopped in surprise when Lily kissed his cheek and wrapped her arms around his neck. It was a little awkward because she was still holding her mug, but the way she hugged him felt like she was overflowing with relief. He hugged her back, feeling her relax into him.

Lily shivered, feeling something ice-cold settle and then melt on the exposed skin at the nape of her neck. She stepped back from Ethan and grinned widely: fat snowflakes were tumbling from the sky, swirling in the air and scattering on a light breeze.

"I can't wait for Christmas, now," she said, really meaning it. "But I think we should go back inside." She gave Ethan another quick hug, which morphed into being led back inside with his arm looped around her waist.

* * *

"Those two look like Christmas has come early," Zoe commented as she caught sight of Lily and Ethan walking back inside.

"Oh, to be young and naïve, and easily influenced by freak snowfall," Dylan remarked drily.

Zoe raised her eyebrows. "What, so it really did snow?" She hadn't looked outside all day, and perhaps like most of the country she had refused to believe the Met Office's stark warning. She had been wary of their judgement ever since Dylan had burst her bubble and informed her of the official Met Office definition of "white Christmas."

"You mean that you haven't noticed? Two inches dropped this morning and it's just started again. It's sticking marvellously; I can't believe you didn't see it!"

"Dylan!" Zoe said, suddenly mildly cross. "Pot, kettle, black."

He hummed noncommittally by way of apology. Zoe's demeanour had changed completely since he had mentioned the snow, and it didn't seem wise to be deliberately difficult. "Do you want a lift home, later? Can't imagine it'll be much fun, walking in _that,_ in those shoes." He looked down at Zoe's feet, balanced as per usual in impossibly high stilettos.

"No," Zoe replied, her voice unusually curt. "I'll be fine." She couldn't think of anything worse than driving in this weather. She'd truly rather abandon her shoes and walk barefoot. "I've got stuff to do, I'll see you later." And then she was gone, leaving Dylan wondering where he'd managed to upset his best friend.

* * *

The snow was still coming down, thick and fast, when the end of Zoe's shift came around. She stood in the entrance of the department, looking out at the transformed world. Retying her scarf so that it sat more snugly around her neck, she pulled her coat more tightly around her.

"There is no way I'm going to let you walk home," Dylan said firmly as he walked up to stand next to her.

Zoe's heart pounded in her chest. "Good grief, Dylan, you made me jump! Don't do that!" A cardboard cup was pushed into her hands, a tiny plume of steam rising through the lid. "Okay, forgiven, but I'm still walking."

"You most certainly are _not_ walking. I can't believe that I'm trying to convince you _not_ to walk home in five-inch heels when the snow is this deep, still falling and the air temperature is at least three below! It's practically dark – do I really have to go so far as to patronise you with reasons why it's too dangerous to walk? I'm giving you a ridiculously easy option, Zoe, why do you look so upset?" As he had spoken, he had watched her close up in exactly the same way as she had earlier, when he had first mention driving her home.

"I'm not, I'm fine, it's fine. I would just really rather walk. Thank you, for the drink, though." A little unsteadily, she set off from the front of the hospital, snowflakes sticking in the front of her dark hair and all over her grey bobble hat. Her progress was hampered by both the snow and her footwear, so it didn't take long for Dylan to catch up to her. And it was a good thing he did, because at that moment her luck ran out. She slipped, and would have fallen spectacularly, had he not had an immediate grip on her elbow, keeping her upright.

"It's going to take you all night to get home at this rate. Let me help you, please." There was apause, when their equal stubbornnesses were fully opposed. "Zoe, get in the truck."

* * *

The roads were every bit as messy as Zoe had expected, and feared. She nervously took a sip of her drink and was surprised by the sweet taste.

"Hot chocolate? You never buy hot chocolate," she said, making no effort to disguise her confusion.

Dylan eased on the brakes as they neared the junction with the main road. "Maybe not for myself, but you looked as though you needed something nice." He omitted the fact that she had also looked too nervous to need highly-caffeinated coffee in her system. His eyes didn't leave the road once, not even briefly, but he didn't have to look at her now to know how tense she was. The truck was filled with a nervous energy which was so unbelievably unlike Zoe. Something wasn't right.

Driving through snow as thick as this, Zoe had decided, was nothing short of treacherous. The snowflakes were falling so fast that they seemed static in the air, unmoving in their unrelenting ferocity. Visibility was poor: she felt suffocated and could barely bring herself to drink her hot chocolate. The steam rising from it was beginning to diminish, because the heating didn't work in the truck. To her memory, it never had.

A car in front of them skidding slightly, the snow on its roof glistening menacingly under the orange streetlights. Zoe braced herself against her seat, breathing shallowly, even though she knew and could see that Dylan was driving responsibly and had left an extortionate braking distance between them and the next car.

Dylan had insisted that the radio be left on a low volume, so he could concentrate, which allowed him to head Zoe's breathing change. Usually, she would have moaned about the quiet radio, especially so close to Christmas. The traffic ahead slowed to a halt, and carefully Dylan stopped the truck, meaning he could at last get a good look at his friend.

Her eyes were closed but it was still all to evident that she was deeply upset. Her breaths were still shallow, through her mouth because of the vicious cold which had circulated among the whole ED team over the last week or so. He saw that there were dark shadows of make-up in her eyes, smudged there by stray tears, he didn't doubt. Zoe's hands were locked together in her lap, her perfectly-manicured nails digging too hard into the skin between her knuckled, which were just as pale as her face.

"Zoe?" he said quietly. "It's... um, it's alright, you know. You'll be okay." For someone who was far too familiar with panic and the kind of crushing fear it could bring, Dylan was suddenly aware that he had precisely zero ideas of what he should say to someone in a similar state.

And then he remembered.

It had been exactly the same with Sam. Of course, back then, he had been a stranger to panic, but not to fear. There had been plenty of moments in his marriage with had merited unease and worry. Still, for someone who had regularly squared up to the threat of death, in Afghanistan, without so much as a quiver, it had surprised Dylan a lot to learn that driving in the snow was the one thing that his then-wife truly could not stand.

"Are you afraid, Zoe?"

She took a shuddering breath in, opening her eyes. Her best friend might have been emotionally illiterate, but it was a sure thing that this part of his personality was fading. He might never have been one to wear his heart on his neatly-rolled sleeve, but there had been a subtle shift in his power of emotional observation. And, she thought, considering her present appearance, it wouldn't take a degree in psychology to work out how frightened she was. In any case, there was no point lying in the face of Dylan's firm bluntness. "Yes," she admitted, after a few seconds had passed.

"Okay," Dylan replied levelly. He inhaled and exhaled deeply through his nose, having mercifully avoided the communal germs. Maybe a gruff exterior was good for something after all. "First of all," he said, rolling down his window to get a better look down the road, "the way that you're feeling, is completely temporary. It's not pleasant, I grant you, but it _will_ go away." It was not the time or the place for one-upmanship, even if he _had_ had it a lot worse. Out of the window, he could clearly see the road up ahead – in the disorienting snow, it was easy to forget the very familiar route to Zoe's house – it was a moderate hill, almost wholly obstructed by stranded cars which simply couldn't make it up the incline. If he was alone in the truck, he would make the arrogant but otherwise reasonable decision to weave between the other cars on the road, the four-wheeled drive of the truck solving every problem the other drivers faced. However, he was not alone; he was with an uncharacteristically anxious passenger, one whose confidence in his snow-driving would have to be vastly increased before he could even attempt such a manoeuvre. He turned off the truck's ignition, rolled up his window and finally took a long-overdue sip of his now lukewarm-at-best coffee. The parallels between this evening, and the first time he had driven Sam through similar conditions, were striking.

Noticing that Dylan had temporarily put a total stop to the journey, Zoe relaxed slightly (which was a further clue to her driver that her episode of anxiety was merely a blip and not a character feature, as it seemed to be for him.) "What are you doing?" She let out her next breath rather more forcefully than she had intended.

"Waiting. I have full confidence that I can drive us safely through this snow, even up this hill, but there's no justice in me dragging you through a situation with which you are clearly very uncomfortable. Just the same as you don't drag me into resus, when... Well, you know... you just don't." It wasn't easy, even with Zoe, to acknowledge the debilitating nature of OCD and the resultant panic attacks.

"Okay," Zoe replied, because she didn't know quite how to respond to this profound observation. "Thank you." It was the least she could say.

"I'm not being deliberately difficult –" she began, before Dylan cut in.

"– I didn't think for one second that you were," he shot back, protective and defensive in equal measure.

"I just mean that... I feel as though I've seen it all go wrong too many times. I know the same as you do, just how horrendously 'wrong' driving in the snow can go."

"Which is why you need to trust me." Dylan hopes that there wouldn't be a single shred of patronisation in his voice, but he could never be totally certain. "When I was first married, and Sam was away on deployment, I was working as a GP up north." He also hoped that Zoe would see the relevance of this story-time – however, a further plus-point of him doing all the talking was that it would give her something else to concentrate on. This story in particular, on any ordinary day, should have piqued her interest massively, because he so rarely talked about Sam or his marriage, despite her questions. "It snowed, _so much,_ up there; it was just such a sure thing over any winter, but the first two in particular were very bad. I'm talking feet of snow, that made this look like a lacklustre scattering."

"Did you drive this, back then?" Zoe asked, tapping her left hand gently on the dashboard of the truck.

"Luckily, yes. I learned a lot, that first winter. Being a rural GP, I had to do an awful lot of widely-spread house calls, and I had to learn, very quickly, how to get about in the snow. Including reaching a snowed-in farm to deliver a baby on Christmas morning," he added thoughtfully, remembering. "Everyone survived, including the baby _not_ named after me despite my herculean driving effort."

Zoe laughed at last, feeling more like herself again. "If you were trying to make me think of anything but this godforsaken journey, then you did well." She paused. "Does Dervla like the snow, too?"

Dylan's lip twitched. "That depends. Light, powdery snow, sure. She skids about something dreadful, but I can see it in her eyes; she's happy. Snow like this though, she's not a great fan. When it's really deep, she gets colder faster, and the deep patches of snow end up sticking in between the pads on her feet. It's like she's got flippers on – I mean, it does look uncomfortable, but it is mildly entertaining."

There was nothing more distracting to Zoe than listening to Dylan talk with such fond warmness about his dog. She pulled her bobble hat off and brushed one hand through her hair.

Dylan, watching her closely, knew that his work in calming her down was done. "How about I get us out of here, and get you home?"

Zoe nodded, pushing down any lingering uncertainty. "Okay," she replied, knowing that it would have been perfectly fine to say no, to ask for more time.

* * *

It didn't take long to reach Zoe's house, nowhere near as long as she had expected. The heating was on in there, she knew, and the white fairy lights on the outside of the house (on a timer, which meant they already glowed) were festive and inviting. Her breath was still visible in the chilly truck, so she couldn't wait to get inside the warmth of her home. Maybe she'd run a hot bath, crumbling in a sparkly festive bath bomb. And yet the kindness she had been shown this evening meant it was rather harder than it should have been, to get out of the truck and carry on with her evening, alone. She put one hand on her bag, and the other on the door.

"See you tomorrow, then?"

"For the unrelenting joy that is Christmas eve in the Emergency Department," Dylan replied acerbically. "Wouldn't miss it." There was almost a hint of a smile on his face, in his eyes especially.

"Good." Zoe paused to think for a moment. "Thanks for tonight." It didn't seem like enough. "You were – are – brilliant. Thank you."

Dylan was abashed. "I'll see you in the morning, in the truck. You don't have to walk it, and I hope you trust my driving a bit more, now."

* * *

There was no need for midwinter to be as bleak as it sometimes pretended to be.


End file.
